


Least Resistance

by lamardeuse



Series: Getting To Know You [15]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series to accompany Season Two of SGA. Part Fifteen: The Long Goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Least Resistance

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: rating refers to overall series rating. Individual parts may carry a lower rating.

“Your lack of cooperation is disheartening, Colonel.”

_Fuck you_, John thought at him.  It took every ounce of effort to do it, considering Thalen had the mental equivalent of his boot on John’s throat.

Thalen _tsked _at him. John never _tsked_; he felt the unfamiliar click of tongue against teeth and suppressed a shiver.  “Such language.”  Thalen raised the nine mil he’d taken off Braddock up with both hands, and John could feel him accustoming himself to the grip of a weapon he’d never held before.

He felt Thalen rooting around in his brain again, and then one hand covered the slide and jacked it with practiced ease.

John tamped down the surge of frustration that threatened to overwhelm him.  It was like Thalen’s occupation had shoved him way down inside his skull, where there was nothing but sensation and animal emotion and involuntary muscle control.  He could release chemicals to slow his heart rate, but he couldn’t move so much as a finger, and he could barely think straight without wanting to strangle something. 

Thalen, on the other hand, was infuriatingly cool.  He peered around a corner and, finding it deserted, proceeded down the corridor, gun at the ready.  “I promise you, as one soldier to another, I will do everything I can to avoid harming your people.  I only want Phoebus.”

_That’s Elizabeth you’re talking about, and Elizabeth _is _one of my people, you son of a bitch.  _

Thalen stopped at the next intersection and checked again; nothing.  “I am sorry about that.  If only we had been found sooner, I would have been quite satisfied to send her withered husk into oblivion.”

_Get out of my body.  Get the fuck out, now._

Thalen curled John’s lips in a feral smile.  “All in good time, Colonel.  All in good time.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
It took John longer than it should have taken him to figure it out.  Seeing Ronon looking up at him with pain twisting his face and betrayal in his eyes had plunged him into fury so intense he thought he’d burn up with it.  It had taken him precious minutes to recover from that, but when he did, he suddenly knew exactly what he had to do.

They were both soldiers, used to fighting dirty, and the device that had put Thalen in his head gave Thalen the upper hand.  It was designed to allow the other consciousness to take over the higher brain functions completely, so that the “flight recorder” could deliver an effective report.  But the designers of the system hadn’t reckoned on an unwilling host, and while John couldn’t control his arms or legs or voice, they’d left him control of some vital systems.

Slowly, so as not to alert Thalen, John willed the tendrils of his consciousness to come together in a single place.  It was a risky move, but he had to make it.

He did his best to suppress the surge of triumph when he reached it, but Thalen must have sensed the emotion, because John’s body jerked.  “What are you—” he began, brows drawing together.

John pictured the volume control on his old stereo back home, pictured reaching out and turning—

And John’s heart rate dropped precipitously, slowing, slowing—

Spots danced in front of John’s eyes; he felt his legs grow weak.  This time the rage was Thalen’s.  “Stop it!”  He took a stumbling step forward, then another, and the next thing John knew Thalen was running, adrenaline pumping from glands John hadn’t thought to control and rocketing his pulse back to normal.  Shit!  Beckett would’ve been able to give him advice on what to try next, but John wasn’t in a position to call him at the moment.

“That was very foolish,” Thalen told him, finally coming to rest panting behind a column.  “Clearly, it’s past time to teach you the value of cooperation.”

John did not like the sound of that.

Thalen rested for another few moments, his consciousness sliding lewdly over John’s cortex like the Wraith queen’s caress.  John struggled to get at Thalen, but once again there was nothing to fight, no way to even get close enough to try. 

John knew when Thalen had found what he was looking for, because suddenly he was off and running again – back the way he’d come.

A wisp of Thalen’s consciousness threaded its way toward him, leaving a single picture with him before wafting out of reach.

_No, _John thought before he could control himself.

“You leave me no choice,” Thalen said, and John’s voice as he said it was almost regretful.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Rodney’s head was in John’s sights.  If John could have puked, he would have.

Thalen tapped the comm link.  “Rodney.”

John saw Rodney’s head jerk up.  “John?”

“Not quite,” Thalen drawled.  His finger was resting on the trigger of the nine mil.  John stomped on his anger and held himself still, still, still.

Rodney stopped dead in his tracks.  His security detail stopped with him; John saw one of them open his mouth to ask a question, but Rodney waved at him impatiently with the hand not holding the laptop, silencing him.  “What do you want?”

“I want nothing of you, Rodney,” Thalen told him.  “But I do want something of John, and you can help me.”

Rodney scowled.  “I don’t see how.”

Thalen sighed.  “Please don’t be foolish, Rodney.  I’m currently sharing rather intimate space with your beloved Colonel.  I can see exactly what you mean to him.”

“Hm,” Rodney said noncommittally. 

“He cares for you,” Thalen said.  “More than you know.”

They were close enough for John to see Rodney’s throat work as he swallowed.  “Well.  That’s – ah, fine.  But I’m still not seeing your point.”

“It’s simple, really.  John is resisting me, and I would like him to stop resisting me.”

“Well, if you want my opinion, I think you’ll have about as much luck with that as shooting moonbeams out your—”

Thalen’s finger tightened minutely on the trigger.  “What is your opinion on how he would feel if I shot a neat hole in that fine brain of yours right now?”

Rodney’s voice died abruptly.  “You—wh-what?”

“I have a very simple choice for John,” Thalen said calmly.  “Either he stops resisting me, or I will kill you.  I may not kill you at this moment – although I could do so quite easily –  but I assure him that I will find a way.”

Rodney raised his chin, eyes searching the darkness around him.  “So it’s my life or Elizabeth’s, then.”

“Not quite.  He will lose on both counts.  My way – well.  He will still have you, at least.”

And then Rodney shocked the hell out of John by chuckling.    He felt Thalen’s confusion, too, and the stirrings of pique.

“What are you laughing at?”

Rodney shook his head.  “You might be in John’s brain, but you obviously don’t have the wit to understand him.  He’ll feel as responsible for Elizabeth’s death as if he’d pulled the trigger himself; consolation prizes don’t do much for him.  And so if there’s a chance that his fighting you will save her life, I won’t ask him to back down.  I can’t.”

“He will feel equally guilty for having caused your death,” Thalen snarled.

“You’re right.  But then you’ll lose for sure, because he’ll be _extremely _pissed off at you.”  Rodney’s free hand waved almost nonchalantly.  “Your choice.”

There was an endless moment in which John’s consciousness snapped, crackled and popped, desperate to figure out a way to control something, anything, to reach out and move his right arm that crucial inch to the left, to open up the floodgates and send every hormone he could find careening through his body, to – fuck, to _do something_ –

And then Thalen made a growling sound of frustration and his gun hand relaxed and dropped to his side, and before John could get one last look at Rodney’s face they were moving again through the darkness.

For a few stunned minutes, all John could think was, _Jesus, Rodney.  Jesus._

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
John wasn’t surprised to find himself standing outside Rodney’s quarters late the next night.  Rodney had stopped by to see him that morning in the infirmary not long after Caldwell had left, but he hadn’t stayed long.  He’d obviously been uncomfortable with Elizabeth there, although John was fairly sure she’d figured out the truth about them a while ago.  It really wouldn’t have mattered, John admitted, if Rodney had stayed, if the guarded look on Rodney’s face had dissolved, revealing its owner’s secrets.

_Or maybe it would have mattered too much,_ John thought absently, meeting Rodney’s sleepy, startled gaze.

Rodney stepped aside in a silent invitation, and after a moment’s hesitation John took him up on the offer.  When the door had slid shut, Rodney turned to him and said, “So.  How – ah, how are you?”

John nodded.  “Better now that I don’t have somebody else in my brain pulling the strings.”

Rodney snorted.  “Yes, I can imagine.”

“You can’t,” John said hoarsely.  “Cadman never had a fucking _gun _pointed at my skull, Rodney.”

Rodney’s jaw dropped.  “So that wasn’t a bluff.  You – he was really there?”

John stared at him.  “You honestly thought – ”

Rodney’s hand flapped.  “No, no, not really, but imagining he was lying was the only thing that kept me from freaking out.”  He trailed off, turning a little green around the gills.  “I need to sit down.”

Without thinking, John wrapped a hand around Rodney’s arm and guided him to the bed, then sat down beside him.  “Deep breaths.”

Rodney breathed through his nose a couple of times before his eyes popped open.  “God.  You were aware the whole time, weren’t you?”

This time it was John’s turn to feel nauseous.  “Yeah,” he said tightly.  “That _was _the point of the exercise, after all.”

“Yes.  Right.  Of course,” Rodney murmured, looking away.  “I just – I’m sorry.”

John frowned, puzzled.  “What for?”

Rodney shrugged.  “For being – I don’t know, a liability?  A millstone?  An albatross?  The expendable girlfriend in a bad 80’s action movie?  Choose your metaphor.”

John stared at him for several seconds, flabbergasted.  “Jesus, Rodney.  Is that how you see – ”

Rodney shook his head, then swallowed and turned to look at John again.  “No,” he said quietly.  “It’s not how _I _see myself.  Well.  Most of the time.”

“It’s not how I see you, either,” John said softly.  “Did I ever say anything to make you think—?”

Rodney shook his head again, his gaze drifting to John’s mouth.  Figuring this was as good an opportunity as he was going to get, John reached up and brushed a thumb over Rodney’s lips, and was rewarded with a shudder and a sharp gasp.

“Is that what all this has been about?” John murmured.   “This ‘I’m-a-very-busy man’ routine you’ve been pulling lately?”

Rodney stiffened a little at that.  “Well, I _am _the most important—”

“_Rod_ney,” John growled warningly, right before he leaned in and covered Rodney’s mouth with his own.  Rodney resisted him for a whole two seconds before groaning and opening helplessly beneath him, hands sliding restlessly over the soft material of his t-shirt, and God, John felt the relief go thundering through him, leaving him feeling a little helpless himself.

“No,” Rodney whispered when they parted.  “Mainly that was just your standard ‘holy-shit-my-boyfriend-has-a-dangerous-job’ panic attack.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we both have dangerous jobs,” John retorted, biting softly at Rodney’s lower lip, because it had been over three weeks and he’d _missed _Rodney’s lower lip.  “And am I your boyfriend?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.  It’s just kind of ninth grade.”

“Not for me.  I was twelve and nobody wanted to be my boyfriend.”

“Awww,” John sighed into Rodney’s mouth before darting his tongue inside.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll be your date for the prom.”

“Oh, shut up,” Rodney told him, groaning low in his throat when John bracketed his head with both hands and kissed him again.

John wasn’t sure when the kiss turned hungry and desperate, only knew that one moment they were kissing and in the next Rodney was whimpering softly and clutching at John’s biceps as John plundered his mouth, as John pushed him back into Rodney’s prescription mattress, as John straddled him and shoved against him and shuddered and shook and oh _fuck _he’d been, he’d nearly, he was really getting tired of this shit, of having no control of anything, not even his own body—

“John.  John.  Johnjohnjohn,” Rodney murmured, over and over again, and then John was falling onto his side and he was wrapped up in Rodney’s arms and Rodney was safe in his and, Christ, how he hated that Thalen had seen this, because he didn’t have the right.  This was his, this was _his_, and he wasn’t used to wanting things for himself, but here and now, tangled up in Rodney, he thought he could get in the habit of wanting this, for as long as he was allowed to have it.

“You’re not a consolation prize,” John murmured into Rodney’s neck.

“I know,” Rodney answered softly, tightening his grip.

_Do you?_ John wondered.  He didn’t say it aloud, though, just pressed his mouth to Rodney’s jugular and savored the strong, steady beat of Rodney’s pulse against his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> First published January 2006.


End file.
